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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356515">Growth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry283/pseuds/Strawberry283'>Strawberry283</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study/Introspection, Drabble, Heartbreak, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Tags may change if I continue this, The part where I made up figure skating stuff, childhood crush, onesided feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:26:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry283/pseuds/Strawberry283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bright.</p>
<p>That is how he always saw Viktor. Not handsome, or seductive, or flexible, or a million other adjectives the press had used to describe him. Bright. From his hair to his smile. From his talent to his confidence. He always looked so at ease, so put together, as if the world were his oyster, as if he were on top of the world and there was nothing anyone could ever do to kick him off the summit. But then again, if you looked at all of his awards and medals, he supposed that’s true, indisputable.</p>
<p>It sounded like a challenge.</p>
<p>And Yuri? Yuri loved challenges.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Growth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I decided to write this because I just love the interaction that Yuri and Viktor had throughout the series, and it upsets me that not much has been written on the matter. So enjoy my attempt at getting into Yuri's blond little head.</p>
<p>Inspired by this clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOTXC46bB70&amp;list=RDIOTXC46bB70&amp;start_radio=1.<br/>I personally found it a little bit too much, but the music was lovely.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bright.</p>
<p>That is how he always saw Viktor. Not handsome, or seductive, or flexible, or a million other adjectives the press had used to describe him. Bright. From his hair to his smile. From his talent to his confidence. He always looked so at ease, so put together, as if the world were his oyster, as if he were on top of the world and there was nothing anyone could ever do to kick him off the summit. But then again, if you looked at all of his awards and medals, he supposed that’s true, indisputable.</p>
<p>It sounded like a challenge.</p>
<p>And Yuri? Yuri loved challenges.</p>
<p>It started as a way for him to scout his future opponent. After all, everybody kept saying Viktor was the best, and if he wanted to be the best, he would have to face him one day. Not then, though, not for a very long time. But Yuri liked to be prepared, to know what he was getting himself into. So he watched him, carefully, deligently. Every move, every sound of the skates crapping on the ice, every flutter of those long silver eyelashes, every twitch of that mouth. He drank all of that in, and tried to be like that, strong and capable and beautiful. Yes, he wanted to be like that. He wanted to be the best.</p>
<p>He quickly realised how impossible that was. It’s not that the things that Viktor did were particularly difficult to imitate. On the contrary, they were supprisingly easy. All you had to do is smile all the time, listen attentively to what anyone is saying, being cute and seductive and sounding like you knew what you were talking about. But somewhere in that template there was something that no-one could copy, something that is uniquely amazing and is uniquely Viktor. Charisma, that was what they called it. Yuri didn’t know what that word meant even when they explained it to him. It seemed awfully abstract and confusing. All he knew was that the thing that he thought was necessary to become the best was something he could not just observe and copy. And that, that was devastating.</p>
<p>His grandfather once taught him that you could make anything happen as long as you put your mind into it, and he believed it wholeheartedly. So he really thought that he could be like Viktor, be charming and charismatic and overall wonderful, if he just put his mind into it. But when he did, it felt weird. It was as if he were someone not at all like himself, as if he were on the outside looking at a complete stranger with his face and piercing green eyes. </p>
<p>He hated it. Hated how stupid and awkward those attempts were. Everyone kept laughing at him, convinced he was trying to grow up too quickly. “You have time”, they told him, and grandpa would ruffle his head and plastered on his indulging smile and told him to stop messing around and get ready for dinner. Maybe they were right. Maybe he really was too young. Not to worry, he would try again later, maybe when he reached 20, the age that Viktor was then. Twenty, it seemed like an eternity before that’d happen. Sure, he could wait. After all, Viktor was not going anywhere. </p>
<p>Then he got older, and he realised that you don’t have to be in a particular way to be the best. You just needed to practice like hell, ace every technical point, and perform a kick-ass routine. At the age of 14, he was the best, and god didn’t it feel awesome. Yakov kept telling him he couldn’t perform that jump because he was still underdeveloped. Huh? What did he know? Viktor was his age when he performed the jump for the first time, and he could do it too. Because he was the best.</p>
<p>He did it, and everyone was astonished. He relished in the gaps and the murmured of the crowd, and Yakov’s screams of course, those were always entertaining. “Look at me now”-he thought. I could do anything.</p>
<p>And that was how he met him. Viktor Nikiforov, his childhood idol, the man he tried everything to be. He was laughing, and clapping, and flashing him a smile so bright it could rival the sun. </p>
<p>“He scolded me for trying that too.”</p>
<p>That sentence zeroed in on him like an arrow. He had something in common with Viktor. He felt so happy and so proud of himself he thought he could combust. Before he could pull himself back together, Viktor continued.</p>
<p>“I bet you could win without a quadruple quad. You are going to win the Junior Grand Prix Final.”</p>
<p>It made him feel warm, a warmth that spread from the tip of his ears to the tip of his toes. There was someone who believed in him. Not that other people didn’t believe in him. His grandfather always did, even when he was just a little child going skating for the first time and after all his falls and stumbled, he always believed Yuri could be an amazing skater. And Yakov. Yakov was the one who agreed to coach him, and ever since had done all he could to make Yuri the best. So, it’s not like Yuri lacked that type of approval. But coming from Viktor, it meant something. He didn’t know what in that moment, he just knew that it was something so valuable he was willing to do a lot of things just to be able to hold it in his palms and treasure it forever.</p>
<p>“If I win without a quad, would you choreograph a routine for me?” - he asked, feeling anxiety and anticipation at the same time, and for a moment he thought he made a mistake because Viktor seemed taken aback, as if he didn’t expect that. But he didn’t regret asking, he couldn’t. He was always one to ask for what he wanted.</p>
<p>But then that smile returned to his handsome face, and his eyes crinkled, and he reached out to Yuri with a soft promise that meant more to Yuri than the sun and the moon.</p>
<p>“Of course. When you win, come and see me. I will give you the best Senior debut ever.”</p>
<p>That promise was what kept him going when everything seemed too much, when the pressure of competition and the fear of disappointment weighed down on his shoulders. He knew he was good, better than anyone there, but a small voice inside his head kept telling him that anything could happen, that a single slip could spell his downfall. And he tried to quiet that voice so most of the time it wasn’t too bad. But it was there, bothering him, chidding him and sometimes it reared its ugly head to distract him from what really mattered. Viktor’s promise was what shined through in those moments of self-doubt, rare as they were. He kept telling himself that Viktor believed he had what it takes to win, and his mind quieted. It was like a spell, and he held it so close to his heart that he felt like at one point in his life it had come to reside in there, carving out a place and making it its home. He longed for Viktor to tell him that again, that he could win, that he believed in him, that they are one and the same and belonged on top of the podium.</p>
<p>Somewhere along long training hours and sleepless nights, Viktor had become an obsession. He would lie awake at night rewinding that same conversation over and over again. He would recall the way the light reflected off his hair, the way his eyes sparkled with excitement, the way his voice went slightly up like he couldn’t contain himself. He liked that smile, and that hair, and those eyes, the way they shine like they hold in themselves mysteries of the universe. He liked all of that. He liked all of him.</p>
<p>It fueled his growing feelings even more when Viktor would occasionally visit the rink during his training time to watch. There were other skaters there, sure, Yakov is a world-renowned coach, so it could hardly ever be just Yuri. But it always felt like he was there just to watch Yuri, see how far he had come. Afterwards, he would give his opinions, pointers, suggestions, ways for him to improve and be even better.</p>
<p>And he would always try his best. Would skate with such enthusiasm and vigour that left his body completely sore and his feet completely numb after each session. Would listen attentively to what he said but acted like he didn’t value them as much as he did because he wasn’t some star-strucked fanboy. He was his equal.</p>
<p>“Look at me”- he wanted to scream- “I am the one who is good enough for you.” </p>
<p>At 15, he won his first Junior championship. As if there were any doubts that he would. <br/>It felt good, being on top of the podium. It felt good when Yakov patted him on the back and people standing up and clapping for him. It felt good to be in the middle of the sea of reporters and screaming fans and felt the weight of the medal on his neck like a confirmation of his greatness.</p>
<p>During the ceremony, he couldn’t help but think about what Viktor would say, fantasizing about all the praise he would be streaming and the pats he would be getting. Viktor would smile, and clap his hands too loud like an overexcited kid, and he would smile so wide it made his mouth look like a heart. And Yuri would relish every minute of it while acting like he didn’t care. God! It sounded like such an amazing plan.</p>
<p>None of that happened, because Viktor seemed to have taken an interest in some anxiety-riddle thing called Yuuri. He kept going on and on about how this guy was so passionate and he was skating as if gliding on the ice and all that weird crap. But Viktor liked him, so he was curious. He watched Yuuri’s routine, and was immediately puzzled as to why this clumsy little thing could have won Viktor’s attention. His technique was crap, he kept falling and flailing and every time he fell, he seemed to lose all drive to get back up again. But he would admit that Yuuri, urgh, why did they have to have the same name? He could never enjoy hearing Viktor call his name again. Yuuri, had potential. He might be clumsy and his routine might be shit because of his faults, but he did skate as if it was his favorite thing in the world, as if he was born just for this. Somehow that knowledge irritated Yuri even more. How could this guy waste all his potential like that? It made him angry. But what angered him more was why wasn’t Viktor angry, instead sounded like an overeager puppy? He thought they were the same, that they were each other’s match. So why are they reacting differently to the same thing? </p>
<p>He didn’t know what to do with all of that frustration, but before he figured out what it was that he should do, he found himself following Katsuki Yuuri into the bathroom. </p>
<p>He was in the stall talking to someone. It was Japanese so he had no hope of understanding what the idiot was going on about, sounding all soft and flustered. But he could make out the little noise, the sighs and choked off little sobs? This guy was crying? Really? After wasting his potential and failing to deliver a simple performance, he was crying? This was infuriating. </p>
<p>Why was nothing making any sense?</p>
<p>He kicked the door. He had to, had to give this weakling a piece of his mind. </p>
<p>As the guy opened the door, he was quick to realise how short and petite this guy is. He was already 23 years old and he wasn’t even a head taller than Yuri, looking so shy and unsure as if he were the one that kicked open some stranger’s door. How pathetic. He summoned his most menacing scowl, which he was told was very menacing, and screamed in the scared thing teary face.</p>
<p>He couldn’t recall what he had said, for the life of him. He just knew that he was so angry, and that he needed to vent, but later couldn’t tell exactly what it was that he was so pissed about.</p>
<p>He was talking with Viktor, the guy criticising everything he did wrong in his routine, and he was brushing him off as if annoyed but god knows he got every word memorised. Suddenly Viktor stopped talking, and he had to turn around to see what had stolen his attention. That guy again, the silly little thing, Yuuri, was staring at Viktor, and Viktor was staring right back. Something about the scene rubbed him the wrong way, but it wasn’t like he could rage and screamed in the middle of the corridor over nothing and demanded that Viktor pay attention only to him. As much as he wanted to, he had class. </p>
<p>Yuuri was turning away without a single word, ignoring Viktor’s offer. It was rude, but he guessed he could understand. Judging by the tears and the put-down face he had minutes ago from the bathroom, it was short of a miracle that he hadn’t broken down into tears the moment the champion spoke to him and reminded him that he had failed, and spectacularly, he might add. </p>
<p>They met again at the banquet. Yuri kind of felt sorry for the guy for having to be there. He couldn’t tell if these events were mandatory, some say they were, and some swore that they weren’t, he just knew that Yakov told him he had to go, and Viktor had asked him to accompany him. It’s not as if he could say no to Viktor, couldn’t he? </p>
<p>Yuuri had his back to him and was sipping his drink quietly in the corner. 30 minutes later, he was still there, empty champagne flutes scattering around him. Yuri had half a mind to come and tell him to knock it off before he got alcohol poisoning or something. But it was none of his business, and he valued his own rights to make stupid decisions, so he left him be. Besides, he was 23, he had all the rights to drown his sorrows in alcohol. The privileges of being a grown up, ladies and gentleman. </p>
<p>Suddenly, Yuuri turned around and stepped into the middle of the room. He was completely out of it, Yuri can tell by the blush high on his cheeks and the glassy look he had seen in Viktor’s eyes countless times that meant he was drunk enough to start taking his clothes off. Yuuri started dancing, if you could call it that. It looked as if he was trying to dance, but in reality he was just flailing his arms around in a circle and jumping up and down in a very weird series of motions. It was funny, hell, it was hilarious, and he could see many people took their phones out to record this. Silly little crowd. If they wanted videos of drunks dancing like they were trying to kill themselves, they could just look online.</p>
<p>Then Yuuri started taking off his clothes, and he realised that these people did have a point. This was the kind of blackmail material that makes one a very rich person.</p>
<p>To his utter shame and bafflement, his entourage started to join him. First it was Viktor, and then it was Chris, and before he knew it, they were dancing and laughing and performing what could be called the worst moves in the history of dancing. But Viktor was there, and he seemed to have fun, so he couldn’t stand out there looking like an idiot, or in this case, not like an idiot. The man he liked was dancing with someone else, he had to join in. </p>
<p>So he did, and Yuuri looked absolutely thrilled when he spotted him, declaring a dance off and all that. Then he stripped to only a shirt and underwear, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck and yelling.</p>
<p>“Viktoru”- his accent got stronger because of his drunkenness- “If I win this round, would you become my coach?”</p>
<p>Like hell he would. Viktor would become his coach, other Yuri, because he was the only one who could be Viktor’s equal. So he danced his heart out, as if trying to prove a point. In a way he guessed he was, but the idea of proving your claim to a drunk man sounded so ridiculous, so he didn’t really know what it was really. But despite all that, he had a good time. It was ridiculously childish, but somewhere in the middle of all that he was laughing, and Chris was heffing Yuuri up on the pole, who the fuck thought that putting a pole here is a good idea was beyond him, and they were twirling and spilling champagne everywhere. He was torn between disgust and amusement, but decided to go for both, because Yuri didn’t have to choose, god damn it.</p>
<p>The guy didn’t remember the party, of that Yuri was sure, because the very next day he went back to being meek and shy and turned red as the press went around putting microphones in his face when they saw him at the airport. Everyone was courteous enough not to leak the photos of his drunken shenanigans. They might not like each other all that much, because god at his witness he wholeheartedly loathed that JJ prick, but they looked out for each other. It’s a small world, they will have to see each other again someday.</p>
<p>Despite his disapproval of Yuuri’s antics, he did have fun that night, so he decided that maybe that little noodle was not too bad after all.</p>
<p>That changed when he learned that Viktor went to Japan just to coach him. What the fuck? This was his grand debut into the Senior figure skating rank, and Viktor had promised to choreograph a routine for him, so why the fuck was he doing this? </p>
<p>He forgot, the simple answer must have been that their promise had completely slipped his mind. It wasn’t all that surprising, for Viktor was known to have a very short memory span, and had angered all sorts of people going around promising things and then forgetting them the next day. No, Viktor forgetting wasn’t what made him angry, the fact that he remembered a silly banal promise made to Yuuri Katsuki when he was drunk off his ass did. What was so special about that idiot that Viktor seemed to jump at every chance to be with him, even going so far as to quit his job and travelling half the world just to help him win a competition that seemed completely out of his league anyways? </p>
<p>He knew it was silly. And he knew that he shouldn’t pack up and did the same thing that Viktor did, flying across the globe just to be with a man. But this was Viktor, he had wanted this, had wanted him, and since when did wanting to be him turn into wanting him he couldn’t possibly tell, for so long, and Yuri Plisetsky will always fight for what he wants.</p>
<p>So he organised a trip, booked a flight to Hasetsu, a little island in the middle of fucking nowhere. The trip was long and tedious, as international flights tend to be, but instead of sleeping or eating, he realised he couldn’t do anything but to worry over what he would say when he got there. He would yell at Viktor, that was for sure, but what would he do if that couldn’t get Viktor to go back. Would he have to cry and beg? The thought terrified him. Crying and begging for someone seemed the lowest of lows. But after tossing and turning and trying in vain to be completely for a couple of hours, he thought that maybe if that would help him get Viktor to go back with him, then maybe it was worth it. After all, don't people always say that you can’t be rational and be in love? </p>
<p>Was he in love with Viktor? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t have that kind of arousal people always say that comes along with love. He just wanted to be with him, to have him teach him to be better, and pat his back and his head and tell him he was being good. He wanted to look at him all the time, to marvel at the light glinting in his eyes and the way his mouth quirks up in a half smile as if holding a big secret that only he could understand. He wanted to go home with him after practice, to cook him the pirozhki Yuri loved so much and sit on the couch playing video games with him. He didn’t know what love felt like, but that sounded like love to him.     </p>
<p>Upon arriving at the airport, it hit him that he had no idea how to find Viktor there. He didn’t speak the language, the signs were all in weird codes he couldn’t understand, and not a single one of the locals know how to speak English. So he did the best thing that he could do in that moment, he yelled his heart out and hoped that it would help somehow.</p>
<p>And apparently, it did help, because after an intense session of relieving his favorite memory, the moment they made their promise, he shook himself out of the reverie to scream Viktor’s name once more and a man said something to him that he couldn’t understand, but could follow the finger pointing to the distance. Viktor must be there.</p>
<p>They met, and as expected, Viktor completely forgot about their promise, but he did give them another challenge, beating each other for the rights to be with him, which was fine. If all he had to do was beat this clumsy little piggy, this would be over in no time. Even though the thought of competing with someone else just to be with Viktor was trivial, it wasn’t long before he decided he had to do this. He could never say no to Viktor, and then again, didn’t he decide he would be willing to beg for him? </p>
<p>It grated on his nerves that Viktor called Yuuri piglet, as if it were a pet name or something, and he got stuck with Yurio. Yurio, that sounded like an ice cream flavor or a cookie, cutesy and plain and nothing like him. But Viktor was laughing his real laugh, not that practiced thing he put up in front of the cameras, so he guessed that was fine.</p>
<p>He quickly realised that the little piggy was in love with Viktor. He kept going on and on about Viktor, as if Viktor was the only word in his vocabulary that actually meant anything. It was weird, and that made him uncomfortable. But everyone he knew was more or less in love with Viktor, so it wasn’t that awkward. Viktor would realise soon enough that he was the only one good enough to be with him.</p>
<p>He was outraged when Viktor announced he would have to skate the Agape routine, the one with the music sounding so pure and melodic he wanted to puke rainbows. That was nothing like him. It was demeaning and ridiculous in equal measures. But then again, he could never say no to Viktor, and he had always loved a challenge.</p>
<p>He also realised that Viktor had a pet name for him too. Kitten. He didn’t know what that meant. A kitten is like a million times cuter than a piglet, as least in his opinion. The thought of Potya being anywhere beneath a pig in cuteness made him raged. Potya was the best! Therefore, kittens are the best, he decided with fervor.</p>
<p>Somehow Katsudon thought of wanting to eat katsudon together counted for a declaration of love. The notion was strange to him, but it was somehow similar to all the cheesy things he had heard people declare to each other on soap operas and romantic comedies. It bothered him that his love for Viktor was so different to someone else’s, but he quickly put that out of his mind. He had to focus. If he win this stupid little contest, he would have an eternity to be with Viktor. He would figure it out then. He would have ample time. </p>
<p>When Viktor skated their routine, he was so absorbed in it he didn’t realise the little piggy was looking at him. He did what he had done a million times, what he always did. He put his eyes on Viktor and memorised every movement and every line of his body. That was difficult, but not impossible, he could remember bits of it already. When Katsudon admitted he couldn’t perform any of the more technical jumps, he smirked in contentment. This was in the bag. There was no way he could lose.    </p>
<p>But then Viktor moved in to swipe his thumb on the little piggy’s bottom lip and he felt like he had been hit by a truck. Somehow, without his knowledge, Viktor had taken a liking to the awkward little thing. He could see that in the way he moved around Yuuri, in the way he smiled and pulled him in and clung to him. So this was how he could lose.</p>
<p>Irritated, he made a loud noise and demanded that Viktor taught him first. They separated, but their gazes lingered. He didn’t know what to do in that moment, what little confidence he had seemed to evaporate in a moment’s notice. He felt scared, and uneasy, and very very out of his depths.</p>
<p>So he did the things he did best, he practiced like there were no tomorrow, going on runs and sit-ups, memorising the moves and the music, and overall trying to survive looking at Viktor and Katsudon making eyes at each other.</p>
<p>It felt like hell, looking at the one you love falling in love with another person. They seemed attached to each other, as if they couldn’t go a moment without physical contact or something. It struck something in him, seeing that kind of intimacy, because he never thought about doing that with Viktor, even when he was convinced he loved him. He knew by looking at them that if this was the kind of relationship that Viktor wanted, then he didn’t have any chance in the first place. This was not for him, it was not something he could picture himself doing. And maybe this really was love, and what he felt was nothing like that, he was just telling himself that it was.</p>
<p>It didn’t make it hurt even less, and along with it, the humiliation grew. He felt bad, constantly having to vie for Viktor’s attention. It was clear to him that there was no place there for him, even though they never said anything, Katsudon even welcomed him, being all shy and gentle. It was cute, and nauseating, and hurtful that he couldn’t hate him, even if seeing them made him want to cry.</p>
<p>After a while, he had to admit that no amount of chidding or begging was going to work, Viktor was gone. The realisation came without pain, as if he had always known it would be like this, or maybe he was so used to it by now that he just felt numb. Whatever the reason, he had faced it with a blank face, because what other choices did he have? He wanted to dissolve into a mess of hurt on the floor, because once you have spent your entire life loving someone, it felt like being without it was going to change who you were completely. But alas, he couldn’t, because he was constantly with them, and he didn’t want to seem weak, crying over a childish crush.</p>
<p>So he buried himself in training. If he couldn’t get Viktor’s affections, at least he could win. He convinced himself he didn’t care if Viktor came back anymore, but deep down he knew it was a lie. He still wanted him to come back, but at the same time, he knew that Viktor didn’t want that, and he respected him too much to want otherwise.</p>
<p>He would admit, in the deep recesses of his mind, that he sometimes lie awake at night dreaming that if he won, Viktor was going to realise that he wanted Yuri all along, and would happily come back with him. Even as a dream, it felt impossible. Yet he held on hope. He couldn’t help but feel like that hope would crush him into the ground.</p>
<p>Yuuri asked him to help him with the technical jumps, and he wanted to say no, why shouldn’t he? It would work in his favour. But looking at his earnest face and bright eyes and knowing how much he worked for this, Yuri couldn’t just say no. He hated it when people wasted what little it was they were offered in this life. So he nodded.</p>
<p>Katsudon was sharp, and attentive, and diligent, all the best qualities in an athlete. He learned the jumps with the determination and gusto that only a love-sick puppy could muster, although whether it was love for Viktor or skating he couldn’t possibly tell. Both, probably. <br/>Maybe he had loved and skated for Viktor for so long that both of them just blurred into one. That thought scared him, skating for someone else and not himself. He found skating when he needed it the most, using it as a way to pass the time and the loneliness that was eating away at a motherless boy. He knew it wasn’t completely healthy, but skating has always been his way to talk, to vent, to communicate. He couldn’t imagine doing it for anyone else.</p>
<p>Apparently that was his problem. Viktor said he showed too much greed on the ice, and what the fuck does that even mean? But skating for Viktor had worked for Yuuri, maybe it would work for him too. For the sake of a good performance, he was willing to try, even though he doubted it would change anything, since it had been proven that his love was something that was lacking, not up to the challenge, weak and vicious and probably misguided. But again, he was willing to try, for Viktor. He would do many things for Viktor.</p>
<p>It didn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t. Even though he poured all the love and the longing he had felt for his entire childhood into the routine, it wasn’t enough. His love was not pure enough, or maybe not strong enough, or maybe it was so flawed it could never be pure or strong. He didn’t know. But every time he failed to deliver, Viktor sent him to the temples, where a guy beat him with a stick seemingly at random. He didn’t know why the guy did that, or why Viktor sent him there in the first place. He just knew that the pain distracted him a little bit from the pain that was raging inside his chest. That would have to be enough. He didn’t have much nowadays.</p>
<p>What was pure love, anyways? As he stood under the freezing stream, he remembered winters at home, with his grandfather’s warm hands surrounding his and he felt safe, and cared for, and protected. And that was love too, wasn’t it? People always thought of romantic love first when we mention love, but could anyone dispute what he felt when his grandfather held him and fed him pirozhki was love? The love he had for his grandfather would surpass everything, even his love for Viktor, hell, even his love for skating. It was the love that started life as he knew it, and would go with him until that life was vanquished. He understood now what pure love was. He had been looking at this all wrong. When he went on that stage and skated about love, it wouldn’t be for Viktor, it wouldn’t be for a kind of unstable and uncertain affection, no matter how strong it felt at times, it would be for the person who always stood by and supported him. It would be for the only one that really mattered.</p>
<p>He did exactly that. Delivered the best performance of his life, according to Viktor. Even though he decided to abandon all hope, something in his chest still warmed at that, something silly and hurtful that felt suspiciously like hope, but in the high of an emotional performance he let it be, too tired to properly crush it like he should have. </p>
<p>Because the look on Viktor’s face during Katsudon’s performance almost undid him. He knew what that was, utter devotion and adoration, the things he always had for Katsudon, and would never have for him. It hurt, even though he knew it already, and accepted it. It seemed his heart was too young and tender to know when to give up. But that was that. He knew how this was going to end, and despite his will he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He had to get out of there.</p>
<p>Yuuko found him outside, and somehow it comforted his soul, knowing that someone here cared enough about him to run after him like this, although he didn’t want to face her in this state.</p>
<p>“I don’t need to stick around to know how this ends.”- he said resolutely, trying to keep the tears and bitterness out of his voice. Just a few more minutes, then he could break down all he wanted.</p>
<p>“I will go back to Yakov.”</p>
<p>And he would. And Yakov would be there. And his grandfather would be there. And Mila and Georgi too. They would tease him and told him that he was being silly. Yakov would yell at him for days and ruffle his hair because he would know how much this had shaken him. Yakov always knew, it felt supernatural, like coach instinct. He didn’t know how it worked, maybe he would one day, when he became a coach. His grandfather would call him, not to yell at him like Yakov, but to ask him if he was feeling well, eating well, behaving himself, would pretend he didn’t know why Yuri did what he did because he wouldn’t want to embarrass him. Always so understanding, his grandfather, always so loving.</p>
<p>Yes, everyone would be there, and they would stand by him and train with him and cheer him on. It wouldn’t matter that Viktor wouldn’t be one of them. He survived his mother leaving him and he would survive Viktor leaving him too, even though leaving Hasetsu had felt like leaving a piece of his soul behind. He had to, if he wanted to win. And he really, really wanted to win.</p>
<p>He cried the entire way to the airport, and the entire flight, not caring if anyone was giving him weird looks or judgy faces. He just had to let it out, all those years of frustration and longing. He didn’t know what one usually does when they realise their first love could never be, he just did what he could in order to feel better. And he had to feel better, he had long and challenging days ahead of him.</p>
<p>He would be fine, he kept telling himself, because if he told himself enough times maybe it would be true.</p>
<p>And if it weren’t true, he would do all he could to make it so.</p>
<p>He was Yuri Plisetsky.</p>
<p>And he wanted to win.</p>
<p>More than he ever wanted anything.</p>
<p>Or anyone, for that matter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I might continue this, because I really enjoyed how Yuri found a friend in Yuuri and a confidant in Otabek. But inspiration just comes and goes randomly for me so I guess we'll see.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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